


Remedy for a Bad Day

by mckayla (steveromanov)



Series: Stevenat Fluffy Sexcapades [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Mild Fluff, Shower Sex, Smut, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Steve makes a mess of absolutely everything, Vaginal Fingering, Wall Sex, but it's cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 07:04:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3478850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steveromanov/pseuds/mckayla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha is having a bad day, and Steve thinks he knows just how to fix it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remedy for a Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it took so long for me to pop this one out! I was really struggling for some prompts, but then my friend reminded me that she once wrote a one-shot involving Charlie Hunnam making a mess trying to bake some cookies in the kitchen.
> 
> So, naturally, I added my own little spin as well as Steve Rogers and a very, very done Natasha Romanoff.

Natasha was having a bad day.

For starters, she woke up that morning with a kink in her neck and no matter how much Steve tried to massage it away, the knot just wouldn’t let up. In fact, it was so bothersome that the very fact that Steve was _massaging_ her hadn’t even cheered her up—or, per usual, made her want to turn around and screw him senseless. He understood, so when she crept out from beneath the covers to go take a shower, he didn’t join her. He knew that when she was irritated like this, not even sex would make her relax; it actually only seemed to make her more annoyed with his persistence. So, instead, Steve silently stayed out of his girlfriend’s way, preparing her favorite breakfast so that a pleasant surprise would be waiting for her once she got out of the bathroom. Perhaps it would even bring her mood up—at least, that’s what Steve was hoping for.

And for a brief second, when Natasha walked into the living area of Steve’s D.C. apartment and saw the plate of _grenki_  still hot on the table, he thought he might have succeeded in brightening her morning. A small smile flashed across her features, one he could see was of regret for being so cold to him earlier for something he honestly couldn’t control or prevent, as well as appreciation for his thoughtfulness and just overall sweet nature. Despite this, she was wordless as she padded over to the table, though she did brush her bare toes gently against his leg as she sat down and picked up her fork, the smile now in full and never leaving her face.

That was when Natasha’s SHIELD-issued phone trilled obnoxiously on the counter, and all of Steve’s hopes for a nice morning came crashing down around him. Based on the ring tone, they both knew it was Fury, and that only meant one thing—he needed Natasha to come into work that day.

Steve had half a mind to step up and maybe break the phone in a million pieces so they weren’t disturbed again, and Natasha must have noticed this because she gave him a look with her green eyes that quite literally said “ _don’t_ ” before stepping up to answer the call. Sure enough, it was Fury, and ten minutes later Natasha was leaving the apartment on a minor assignment that didn’t even require her to leave D.C., her mood once again spoiled.

As soon as she was out of the apartment, Steve set his mind to preparing another surprise for Natasha to come home to at the end of the day. He was sure the _grenki_ would have worked, but since she hadn’t even gotten the chance to take a single bite of the stuff before Fury called her in, he was just going to have to make another one of her Russian favorites. After all, food always cheered Natasha up, especially Steve’s cooking and, even more especially, when he made her something from her homeland. She once told him it was like three comforts in one: food, Steve, and home.

With that thought at the front of his mind, Steve immediately crossed over to his nearby laptop—courtesy of Stark—and used his recently acquired internet knowledge—courtesy of Natasha—to search for recipes on authentic Russian desserts. He was going to make sure that when Natasha came back home later that day, that she was going to have the surprise of her life.

Steve had no idea how effective his plan would eventually prove to be.

* * *

As soon as Natasha left the apartment, her day immediately turned for the worse.

For one, there was a giant spot of still-wet bird shit waiting for her on the driver’s side door handle on her car, so she had to enter through the passenger’s side and climb over behind the wheel. Not only that, but the cramped space and odd angle she had to move in only worsened the kink in her neck, so she had to drive with her head angled to the side to prevent the knot from seizing up as she made her way to the Triskelion.

For two, her normal parking space had been occupied by a car she presumed belonged to some newbie, so she had to park farther from the elevator in the garage and walk back, where she then realized halfway that she forgot her cellphone in her car’s cup holder. Normally, she would’ve been fine leaving it behind, but she was in a relationship now and she didn’t know if Steve would need a way to get into contact with her later if something happened. By the time she went back to her car, dropped her keys a couple of times as she attempted to open the door, forgot that there was bird shit still on the handle as she blindly reached to open the damn thing, and finally got her cell phone again, Natasha realized she was already five minutes late for her meeting with Fury and that her superior hated to be stood up on set occasions, no matter how last minute and, in her opinion, unnecessary they were.

At least the automated voice in the elevator recognized Natasha as she stepped inside, though that didn’t stop the lift from pausing at almost every floor to allow a few more people on or off, each of them giving her slightly nervous looks but nodding at her in greeting nonetheless. By the time she finally reached the floor that housed Fury’s office, the elevator was completely packed with people and she had to push her way to the front and barely managed to not get crushed by the elevator doors in the process. Natasha allowed herself a few beats to readjust her catsuit and fix the short curls on her head, deciding that she was already late for the meeting and that a few more seconds wouldn’t hurt.

However, it seemed like Fury was having a bad day, too. Stark was up to his usual games, and that meant hacking the SHIELD database just for fun. Now, they could trust Tony not to leak any information, but they couldn’t trust him not to sift through all of their files—at least, the ones he could get his grubby, genius-billionaire hands on—and Fury needed her to reboot SHIELD's firewall. Natasha accepted the task without any outward sign of reluctance, though on the inside she was pissed that it was _Stark_ who had interrupted the one thing that wasn’t going to bring her mood down that morning, as well as prevented her from enjoying the meal that Steve had prepared for her.

It took her about an hour or so to fully safeguard SHIELD against Stark's childish attempt at a boredom-curing practical joke, though she did succeed in the end, which was all that really mattered. Still, that didn’t put a stop to her annoyance at the entire day’s events—she could’ve been home, full of Steve’s homemade _grenki_ , and maybe even breathless and sweaty after a couple of rounds of thanking him for his efforts at cheering her up with said food.

Natasha made sure to email Stark a rather angry letter full of a bunch of colorful words that probably wouldn’t even begin to hurt his feelings before regrouping for an entirely needless debrief with Fury. The debrief turned into a conversation, regarding topics ranging from Stark’s childishness to Natasha's not-so-secret secret relationship with Steve. While she could ramble for hours about Stark’s immaturity, she preferred not to disclose any details regarding her and Steve’s private lives, not even to one of the men she looked up to and trusted the most, so Fury allowed her to leave shortly after that without any further pushing on the subject.

There were minimal elevator stops on her ride from Fury’s office, and she was completely alone by the time she reached the parking garage. She didn’t forget anything in the building that would have caused her to turn back to go retrieve it, and when she got to her Corvette, the bird shit was even wiped clean from the door handle. Things were still working in her favor as she realized on her drive back to the apartment that the knot in her neck had disappeared, and by the time she pulled her car behind Steve’s motorcycle in front of the modest brick structure that was his apartment building, Natasha found herself in as good a mood as ever.

It wasn’t even five minutes later that Natasha was turning her key in the apartment’s knob and pushing the door open, only to find a trail of white, powdery footprints leading back and forth in the hallway from the bathroom to the kitchen.

Natasha cursed under her breath. What was going on _now_?

As a distracted swear coupled with a loud clattering sound resonated from the kitchen, Natasha hesitantly crept further into the living area after softly clicking the door shut behind her. Her eyes registered that the footprints trailed not only from the kitchen to the bathroom, but also into the _bedroom_ , where a pile of clothes that Steve had been wearing when she left the apartment earlier that day lay discarded in a heap on the floor. That mess was also covered in the powder substance, and she found herself frowning in confusion before turning to walk into the kitchen.

“Steve?”

Another swear came from the man in question, though this time because he realized Natasha had returned home so early. She hesitantly walked further toward the kitchen until she could see Steve standing sheepishly behind the breakfast counter, completely naked save for a pair of boxer briefs as well as covered in a sheen of the same white powder trailing throughout the apartment. There were a few smudges of some goopy brown substance smeared on his face and arms and abs, and despite all of the layers of gunk collected on his muscular form, Natasha could see the blush that had sprouted from his chest and crept up his neck as clear as day.

Natasha stared blankly at him, unsure of what to make of the situation, her jaw angled and her head tilted slightly to the side as she regarded him with narrowed eyes. Steve stared back, unsure of how to _explain_ the situation, arms limp at his sides and blond hair dusted finely with white as he regarded her with an expression full of innocence.

“Steve…” Natasha started, trying desperately to keep her voice level despite the anger bubbling up in the pit of her stomach. Her mood was just beginning to improve when she came home to find this—whatever the hell _this_ was. She wasn’t sure she could keep the lid on much longer. “Steve, baby, can you please explain to me what happened here?”

Steve hesitated, clearly sensing her barely-concealed annoyance with the situation, and lifted a white sprinkled hand to rub at the nape of his neck. “Well, uh…I knew you were having a bad day, and…um, I know you like when I cook you things…and I know you were mad that you didn’t get a chance to eat breakfast...and I just wanted to bake you something before you got home,” He sucked in a deep breath, slowly scanning the mess around him with his blue eyes. “The recipe called for powdered sugar and I had a hard time opening the bag I bought from the grocery store. Super-serum strength and paper bags of powder don’t mix, it seems,” he finished on a short, nervous laugh.

Natasha slowly nodded her head, her eyes still narrowed, as she motioned at his face. “And the brown stuff?”

Steve lifted a hand to his cheek and brushed away a smudge of brown goop on to his fingertips, pulling his fingers back to briefly observe the stuff. “Uh, that’d be chocolate syrup, ma’am.”

Oh, no. He wasn’t going to try to use that endearingly polite “ma’am” stuff on her today. He only used that when he knew he was in trouble, which he most definitely was, and it was not going to work on her now.

It was  _not_.

“And might I ask what you were trying to make?”

“A black Russian cake, ma’am.”

She wouldn’t relent. It wasn’t going to work this time.

Natasha gritted her teeth with the effort not to give in. “Steve, are you aware of the fact that a black Russian cake isn’t _actually_ from Russia, and that the title comes from a type of alcoholic beverage?”

“I am now, ma’am.”

 _No._ She was mad at him. He wasn’t off the hook for the mess he made—he was only adding to the headache that made up her entire day. She was not going to walk any further into the kitchen, she was not going to help him clean this mess up, and she was not going to let him win her over with those puppy-dog eyes and that damn “ma’am” bullshit. She was going to hold her ground and—

Natasha was already stepping softly towards Steve, her shoes making imprints in the layer of powdered sugar on the polished wood floor. She was losing, and there was nothing she could do about it. The only option she had now was to embrace the situation and take advantage of the fact that Steve looked adorably— _infuriatingly_ —tousled and was already, for the most part, undressed.

Steve sucked in a low breath through his teeth as Natasha reached for him, her fingers slowly lifting to brush against his upper abdomen. She leaned in close, eyes locked firmly on to his full lips, before stopping right before their mouths touched to look up at him through dark eyelashes.

“Steve, are you aware of the mess you’ve made?” She whispered.

He still hadn’t moved to touch her, afraid that if he made any sudden movements that Natasha would decide that she was still mad at him and pull away. That didn’t stop him from voicing what he said next, however.

“I’m aware that I’m about to add to this mess, ma’am.”

“Stop 'ma’am'-ing me, damn it,” Natasha breathed out before reaching up and pulling Steve’s head down to hers, crushing their lips together in a slow, heavy kiss. He finally moved his hands to her hips, pressing her back against the counter top as he deepened the kiss, and she let out a small gasp as he leaned down and rolled her earlobe gently between his teeth. Natasha raked her nails down Steve’s spine, responding to the way he trailed wet, suctioning kisses down the side of her neck, while her other hand found its way beneath the waistband of his briefs and took a firm hold of his erection.

Steve moved his mouth off of her skin to breathe in a low groan, his fingertips pressing a little harder into the flesh over Natasha’s hipbones as she pumped her fist up once, so brief that he immediately knew she was trying to coax a daring reaction out of him. Steve gritted his teeth as she slid her hand slowly up his shaft, her lips curved into a small smirk as she leaned back and watched him with cool, green eyes; her thumb barely grazing over the head of his cock.

Natasha wanted a reaction? Oh, he’d give her one.

Clutching her wrist beneath his waistband, Steve drew her hand out from his underwear and locked both of her hands in his own, turning the two of them around in a quick movement and smoothly pinning her up against a nearby wall. Steve trapped her hands above her head, holding them in place by locking her wrists underneath the curve between his thumb and forefinger, while trailing his other hand down her still-clothed body until he found the zipper to her catsuit. Natasha’s lips were barely parted and she watched him through half-excited, half-impatient hooded eyes as Steve unzipped her suit so slowly that she swore she could hear each individual tooth disengaging. He brushed his fingers gently across the top of her breasts as he pulled the zipper down, and the callouses dragging on her skin as they lowered with the zipper was damn near driving her crazy, especially as one of them circled her belly button and made her stomach jump unexpectedly at the touch. Steve smirked down at her and Natasha resisted the urge to squirm against his hold.

Finally, after what seemed like forever of him smirking down at her and Natasha willing that he just _touch_ her already, Steve dipped his fingers beneath the lace of her panties and grazed them against her folds, drawing a small whimper from between her lips. She briefly let her eyelids flutter shut before pressing her lips together with the effort to not go slack against his entire body, and that effort was quadrupled as Steve hooked a finger inside of her, and then sunk in another shortly after that. His thumb worked over her clit as he pumped his fingers slowly in and out of her, and Natasha moaned as he twisted his hand so that his palm was facing the ceiling. Before she knew what she was doing, Natasha was inching on to her tippy-toes as Steve curled his fingers upwards, practically controlling her movements like a puppeteer as she slid up the wall, balanced evenly despite the fact that she was poised directly on her toes and nearly trembling under Steve’s touch.

Natasha’s vision started to cloud as she saw stars, and she tipped her head back until it hit the wall with a soft _thud_. Steve’s smirk was gone now and his fingers were working her furiously, his mouth moving along her jawline just as quickly as he pumped his hand against her core. He soon let her hands free as he couldn’t support her weight with how quickly her legs were going limp beneath her, and he snaked his free arm around her waist and pulled her tightly against his body as Natasha grabbed desperately at the hair on the back of his head and gave in to the pull of her orgasm.

Gasping a Russian curse, Natasha twitched against Steve’s body as he held her tight through her high, waiting patiently for her to recover. When he felt her fingers loosening around the blond strands on his head, Steve leaned back to brush his thumbs against Natasha’s cheeks, leaning in moments later to kiss her leisurely on the lips.

When they parted, Natasha struggled to open her eyes wide enough to look at him, and she was still struggling for breath. “I’m…supposed to be…mad at you, damn it. I had a…bad day.”

Steve chuckled against her lips. “You can’t be mad at me, because I’m going to make it better.”

“Says who?” She countered weakly, managing to smirk up at him despite her climax-hazy state.

“Well,” Steve leaned forward so that his lips brushed against her ear. “Says me... _ma’am_.”

As Natasha let out a low moan, Steve took that as her way of saying that she was ready for the next part of their tryst and bent down to pick her up in a bridal carry, eliciting a surprised gasp from the back of her throat. Natasha laughed softly at the new set of white footprints trailing behind them as he carried her to the bedroom, pressing kisses to the side of his jaw and on his neck before he placed her back down on her feet. Steve quickly stripped Natasha of her catsuit and undergarments and was about to crawl on to the bed with her before she pressed a hand to his bare chest and shook her head at him.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed in concern. Natasha laughed as she smoothed the frown away with her thumb. It was such a Steve thing to ask—so endearing, so self-less despite the fact that he had just pinned her up against a wall and fingered her senseless only minutes before.

“Yeah, everything’s fine, but…” Natasha bit her lip, eyes trailing over his face before falling to his chest. “You’re a complete and utter mess. You look like the Pillsbury doughboy.”

Steve’s face immediately reddened in a deep blush and the image only made Natasha laugh harder, though she leaned up and kissed him on the corner of the mouth once she realized that she may have offended him.

“Don’t worry, it’s cute,” she reassured him, “But it’ll also ruin the sheets, and we can’t have that. So, into the shower, we go.”

Steve smiled softly before cocking his head in acquisition. “Shower sex, huh? I’ve never done that before.”

Natasha looked at him over her shoulder as she led him to the bathroom, an eyebrow raised. “Well, there’s a first time for everything. The fact that you tried to bake a black Russian cake proved that.”

“Hey, keyword: _tried_. I actually put a lot of effort into it.” Steve countered as Natasha turned to switch on the water.

“I know, Steve, I know,” She smiled, turning back to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down for another tender kiss. “And thank you, I mean it. I really was having a bad day.”

He lifted a slightly concerned eyebrow. “You wanna talk about it later?”

“Yeah,” She chuckled, “Keyword: later. Right now, we have a shower to take.”

Natasha allowed Steve to kiss her for a few more seconds before she stepped back and into the shower cubicle, extending a hand out for him to take as he climbed in after her. Reaching behind him, Natasha detached the shower head from its stand and tipped Steve’s head back, running the water through his hair and down his back while also pressing tender kisses to the moist skin on his collar bone. She moved the stream of water to his chest afterwards, watching the chocolate and powdered sugar swirl down his body and into the drain, and she couldn’t resist raking her hand down to the V at his waist and grabbing hold of his erection again. Steve twitched against her palm, closing his eyes in ecstasy as she massaged the tip of his cock with her thumb as well as the water from the showerhead. After a few minutes of teasing him, Natasha lifted her hand to clear the smudges of chocolate from his face, brushing her fingers softly along his chin and cheekbones before settling on his mouth, where he sucked one of her fingers between his lips.

As Steve’s tongue slithered along her finger, Natasha’s eyes darkened and she found herself dropping the showerhead from her hands, letting it swing to the floor as she pressed her body flush against his and leaned up for a searing kiss. He pushed her back against the tile lining the shower wall, and the cold contact on her skin as well as Steve’s cock grazing against the folds surrounding her clit caused her to shiver and let out a soft gasp. Steve didn’t delve into any more foreplay and instead curled his hands beneath her thighs to lift her up against the wall, sinking into her moments later as he eased her down slowly onto his shaft until he was hilt deep.

Steve gritted his teeth as he adjusted to her tightness, and Natasha squeezed her eyes shut as she adjusted to his fullness. One shaky gasp elicited from her lips moments later and he finally started thrusting, working a steady rhythm while also keeping one of his large hands wrapped around her waist to keep her from sliding too far up the wall, bracing the other one beside her head. He transitioned between pumping in an out of her smoothly and efficiently to grinding his hips against her clit in tight, circular movements that had her panting and moaning broken bits of Russian that he couldn’t understand but knew were laced with pleasure and gratitude and love.

“ _Steve_ ,” Natasha gasped, clawing her nails against his shoulder blades. “ _Fuck._ Steve, baby, I— _oh_ , my _god_ —”

Natasha ended the sentence with a loud cry, which Steve swallowed in his mouth as he leaned down and pressed their lips together in a hot kiss. Natasha’s muscles quivered around his cock and it was all Steve could do to hold on, though it was a losing battle and he soon thrust erratically one last time into her limp body as he came, one of his hands holding her hips closely against his own while his other hand pressed firmly against the tile beside her head and resulted in a _crack_ filling the small room. Neither of them reacted to the fact that he had just split the grout in half, and instead panted heavily as they both fought to catch their breaths with the shower steam still clouding the stall around them.

“There you go again,” Natasha panted, her eyes still closed as she rested her head against the tile. “Continuing to make messes throughout the apartment.”

Steve chuckled against her shoulder. “I think the only thing that’s safe from my strength is you.”

“Mm-hmm,” she replied, “but I like your strength. It’s useful in the bedroom—oh, and the battlefield too, I suppose.”

As Natasha smiled, Steve laughed again, though it turned into a moan as she shifted her hips against him. “Oh, don’t tempt me, Nat. You know my stamina is far from depleted.”

“Fortunately for me,” she smirked, carding her fingers through his hair. “Let’s get washed up first. We didn’t even use any soap.”

Steve lifted his head heavily off of Natasha’s shoulder, sliding out of her with a low groan before making sure that she was okay to stand by herself on her feet. After checking that she wasn’t about to topple over—though her eyes were barely open and she looked like she would drift off any moment now—Steve lifted her body wash and massaged it into her skin, making sure to work the spot where the knot in her neck had been earlier that morning just in case and earning an appreciative groan from her shortly afterwards. They took turns washing each other, and it wasn’t long before Steve broke another part of the wall tile after Natasha bent down to bring him to pleasure using her mouth. 

However, he wasn't the only one making messes around the apartment that day, because not long after the two advanced from the shower back into the bedroom, Natasha tore a hole straight through their bed's sheets after Steve bent down to bring  _her_ to pleasure using his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

>  _grenki_ is basically Russian french toast, if anybody was curious!
> 
> also, as for the black Russian cake thing, I also only realized it wasn't actually Russian after I incorporated it into the story, but things eventually worked out in my favor, I think.


End file.
